Here She Comes a-Tumbling
by Gamma Orionis
Summary: A collection of drabbles written for prompts on tumblr. 1: Bellatrix/Voldemort, 2: Narcissa/Sirius, 3: Narcissa/Rodolphus, 4: Albus/Gellert, 5: Helena/Baron, 6: Minerva/Narcissa, 7: Dudley/Slughorn, 8: Harry
1. Bellatrix and Voldemort

Author's Notes: This collection is made up of assorted, unrelated drabbles written during periods when I accept prompts on tumblr. They are of varying tone, rating, pairing, and quality, and were mostly done in a very impromptu manner.

Enjoy!

* * *

Bellatrix/Voldemort for hellabonhamcarter

)O(

She was his puppet, his pet. He had trained her like an animal - though her tricks were murder and torture. He gave an order, and she rushed to comply, for no reason other than that it pleased her to please him.

Or, rather, he hoped that there was no other reason.

A truly loyal follower, his philosophy stated, should have no ulterior motive. Followers with their own motives, separate from his, could be of use, of course, but such a person could never _truly_ be considered his, and the understanding would always be present in his mind - and, he hoped, theirs - that there would likely come a time when their goals would be in conflict, and then he would have to dispose of them.

And the most secret, most crudely human part of him dreaded there coming such a time for Bellatrix.

He could justify that dread by reminding himself that she was a talented Death Eater, of great use to him, and that losing her would mean losing one of his greatest warriors, but that same base part of him denied that - or, rather, denied his insistence that there was no other reason.


	2. Narcissa and Sirius

Narcissa/Sirius for foxfaceisaqueen

)O(

"You can't go out in public like _that_!" Narcissa practically shrieked when she saw what Sirius was wearing. "No Black will ever be able to show his face in England again!"

Sirius scowled sullenly. "What's wrong with it?"

"What's wrong with it? What _isn't_ wrong with it?" Narcissa pointe first to the wide bottoms of his trousers, then to his garishly printed shirt open at the top, then gestured wildly at his entire body. "You look like a Muggle! A _blind_ Muggle! With bad taste!"

"I like it," Sirius told her, and tried to push past her, towards the door. She grabbed his arm and held him back firmly, and though he struggled, she was taller, stronger, and clearly cared more about what he was wearing than he cared about getting out of the house.

"Oh, no, you don't," she told him, and all but carried him back up the stairs. "You're going to dress like a proper gentleman if I have to tie you up and dress you myself."

"Kinky," he smirked, and her face went quite pink.

"Don't you get fresh with me! I'll tell your mother!"

"I'm sure you will," he said, even as he let her guide him into his room, shove him onto the bed, and wrench open his wardrobe on the hunt for 'proper gentleman clothes'. "And I'll tell her what you said to make me say it."

"You go right ahead," Narcissa told him. "She'll take my side. Especially when she finds out you were planning on leaving the house in _bell-bottoms_."


	3. Rodolphus and Narcissa

Narcissa/Rodolphus; "puppy" for priuses

)O(

If it had been up to Lucius, he would never have allowed Rodolphus Lestrange in his home. He would have turned him away at the door, even when he arrived with a gift. Even when that gift was a fluffy little Pekingese that both of them knew would delight Narcissa to no end. Especially then.

Narcissa, of course, disagreed with the "no Rodolphus" stance, which was precisely the problem, and Lucius was forced to smile and pretend to be a good host.

"Oh, isn't she sweet!" Narcissa cooed, when Rodolphus practically waltzed into the house without giving Lucius a second look and presented her with the puppy. She squealed like a little girl, and nuzzled her nose against its. It squirmed in her hands and pawed at her wrists.

"I didn't know you liked dogs, Narcissa," Lucius said stiffly. "I could have bought you one."

Narcissa ignored him, and looked up at Rodolphus with a positively adoring expression. She hugged the dog to her chest, where it whimpered into her bosom.

"Thank you _so_ much, Rodolphus," she said, and Rodolphus smiled rather smugly. He reached out to pat the dog's head, and his hand grazed Narcissa's breast. Certainly deliberately, Rodolphus thought.

"Take good care of her, won't you?" he said, and his eyes flickered very slightly towards Lucius when he said it. Narcissa smiled sweetly and babbled some nonsense about how she would take _perfect_ care of the dog, and how Rodolphus would always be welcome to come and visit it. Lucius wasn't listening. He was far too busy glaring at Rodolphus. He had caught the glance he had given him.

_How dare you_, he thought. _How dare you tell me to take care of my wife._


	4. Albus and Gellert

Albus/Gellert for evening12

)O(

The Muggle books said that loving a man was a crime, but, then, when had Albus and Gellert ever been hindered by the bounds of criminality? If they were willing to let no Wizarding nor Muggle law of the world intrude upon their plans for revolution and reform, why should they let a petty and regional one dictate how they behaved in the privacy of their own home?

They spoke of their grand ideals - of the world they hoped to someday fashion, free of hatred and secrecy, and Albus wondered, at times, whether there would come a time when the veil he had cast over himself and his own life would be lifted, or whether, even if (no_, when. _Not if) the prejudices between Wizards and Muggles were dissolved, he and Gellert would still have to live in a state of secrecy, if not for their magic, then for their relations.

Gellert, for his part, rarely gave thought to such things. He approved of secrecy, when it was on his own terms, and did not find it troubling to have to restrain intimacy to moments when no one else could see them. Indeed, when he did take the time to reflect upon the matter, he believed that, even if there was no law, not even the faintest of unwritten rules to say that he could not be with Albus, he would still have kept his feelings for him quite thoroughly hidden.

After all, one could not expect to make such sweeping changes as they planned to without making enemies, and when those enemies were made, it would be best, Gellert thought, if they knew nothing whatsoever about who mattered to him.


	5. Helena and the Baron

Helena/Baron for all-made-out-of-shipwrecks

)O(

He had never meant to hurt her.

He could not blame people - lest of all Helena herself - for assuming that his intentions when he sought her out had been to kill her, nor could he fairly say that he was wrongfully condemned. He was ashamed of it, more deeply than any outside condemnation could ever have made him feel. He deserved - almost _enjoyed_ - being called a murderer, so rightly was the accusation deserved.

And yet, it stung when people forgot that his crime had been one of passion, one committed in the heat and madness of the moment, and one that he had regretted even before the light left poor Helena's eyes.

Whatever people said - and whatever Helena herself believed - his love for her was pure and absolute. Had he only had better control of himself (and he had spent eight hundred long years berating himself that he had not), he would never have hurt her. _Never_.

But she did not believe that. Every passing day since their deaths had been spent in atonement, yet it would never be enough to convince her of his love.


	6. Minerva and Narcissa

Minerva/Narcissa for oldheadsonyoungshoulders

)O(

"Professor," Narcissa Black said, approaching the desk with her eyes open very wide indeed, "I was wondering if we might discuss my transfiguration mark."

"What about it?" Minerva asked without looking up.

"Well… it's rather low."

Minerva gave the girl a cursory glance, then looked back down at her papers and shuffled them slightly. "You have been remiss in attending classes and completing homework, and you have not demonstrated any particular competency in spell-casting. Of course your mark is low."

"But Professor…" Narcissa pouted. "I do try."

"I doubt that very much."

"Isn't there anything I could do to improve my mark?" She blinked slowly and innocently. "Anything?"

"I don't give extra-credit assignments."

"Anything?" Narcissa drew out the word, and leaned forward over the desk as she said it. Her small breasts shifted beneath her robes, and she must have caught Minerva glancing down at them, because the tiniest of smiles twitched her lips. "_Anything?_"

"What are you proposing, Black?" Minerva asked, as sharply as she could muster.

"What do you think I'm proposing?" Narcissa's voice had dropped to a whisper - a rather low, sensual one.

"Miss Black," Minerva said, and channelled all her years of practicing being severe into that one moment, "You can be sure that, since I don't give extra-credit assignments, I am certainly not going to accept sex as a substitute for classwork."


	7. Dudley and Slughorn

Dudley/Slughorn for Anonymous

)O(

No one had come to Horace Slughorn's door in years.

There had been a time when he had been inundated with near-constant visitors, and when rarely a day had gone by when he did not receive a visitor, or at least a letter or package. Even when he was constantly moving from house to house, things had still managed to find him. And that was how he liked it.

But now, it was a shock to hear someone ring the bell.

He had been lounging in an armchair and reading through a scrapbook of his favourite students, and at first, he thought he must have imagined the sound - he was getting old, after all. But then it rang again.

He stumbled to his feet and hurried to look through the peephole.

There was a young man on the doorstep. He was rather porky, and his cheeks were pink and his hair blonde, and he had a nervous, slightly defensive look about him. Horace opened the door just as he reached up to ring the bell again.

"Who are you?" Horace blurted out, quite by accident, so shocked was he to see this stranger on his doorstep. The boy adopted a somewhat forced smile.

"My name's Dudley Dursley," he said. "And I'm looking for Harry Potter."

Horace blinked at him. "I… beg your pardon?"

"My name's Dudley Dursley, and I'm looking for Harry Potter," repeated Dudley Dursley, more loudly this time. "Are you Horace Slughorn?"

"I… how did you get this address?"

"Mrs. Figg told me to look you up," he said, then added, when Horace looked stymied, "Arabella Figg. She's my neighbour. Or, she was. She told me that if I wanted to find Harry Potter, I ought to ask you."

"Are… were you a student of mine at Hogwarts?"

"No," Dudley said rather sullenly. "I'm a… not a Wizard."

"A Muggle."

"Yeah, that's it."

"Then, if I may ask, what are you looking for Harry Potter for?"

Dudley sighed a long-suffering sigh. "He's my cousin. I haven't seen him in ages. Was wondering how he was."

"Well, young man, I'm afraid that I really didn't know him too terribly well, so I'm not really–" Horace began, but Dudley cut him off.

"I was told that you were the person to come to if I was looking for someone," he said. "I was told you have more connections than any other Wizard."

Horace blinked at him, then, slowly, a smile formed on his lips.

"Well, in that case, come in," he said. "I'll see what I can do to help."


	8. Harry

"Dark!Harry reflects on his first kill as a puny fledgling in the chaos of rising war" for addledadlers

)O(

He had thought it was going to be a lot harder.

He had braced himself for killing someone to be an agonizing experience. He had prepared justifications for himself as to why he had _needed_ to do it: that it was the only way to win the war, that he would never have done it unless it was absolutely _crucial_.

He had not been prepared for the possibility that he might not need those justifications.

He had not been prepared to fall asleep easily after he did it, without tossing or turning or nightmares. He had not been prepared to be able to think easily about other things.

Harry Potter had not been prepared to call himself a murderer.


End file.
